Blank Spaces
by Mariposa Indigo
Summary: Two strangers meet to hunt for an intergalactic fugitive. They become instant enemies. Then they're (mostly) unwilling partners. And then they are friends...


Title: Blank Spaces (1/?)

Author: WeyrdChic

Rating: PG (at the moment)

Archive: That would be awesome, awesome indeed.  Let me know.

Summary: "They met in the most unlikely of situations, and hated each other from the start…Would you expect it to begin any other way?"

Warnings: Nothing right now.  Maybe some slashy UST and subtext later.  Spoilers for the first movie, but I hope we've all seen that by now.

Author's Notes: Watching "Lilo and Stitch", I realized something.  There's something that goes on behind the scenes.  There's a bond and a friendship that develops, that we only glimpse when it crosses paths with Lilo and Stitch themselves.  But it deserves a second look of its own.

Blank Spaces

Chapter I: Of Trials and Errors

_"Every little trait, however small,_

_makes my very flesh begin to crawl_

_with simple, utter loathing…_

_There's a strange exhilaration_

_in such total detestation, so pure, so strong._

_'Though I do admit it came on fast_

_still I do believe that it can last,_

_and I will be loathing, loathing you_

_my whole life long."___

_ – "What Is This Feeling?", Wicked___

They met in the most unlikely of situations, and hated each other from the start.  Thrown together in an unlikely partnership, they resolved to stay as far away from each other as possible.  Would you expect it to begin any other way?

He had never seen the Councilwoman this closely before.  Years working closely with the Galactic Federation, and he had only caught her stern face on a view screen, heard her voice carry from across a crowded room.  

It was…. interesting this way.  He watched her step to meet her spotlight with a commanding grace, saw the contempt already fresh in her steel-blue eyes.  Her voice summoned all attention to her, and its tone was not neutral.

"Read the charges."

They had proof, he instantly guessed.  It was only a matter of how much.  

"Dr. Jumba Jookiba," said the soldier beside her, "lead scientist of Galaxy Defense Industries.  You stand before this council _accused_ of illegal genetic experimentation."

Oh, the melodrama.  Now this one was familiar.  Captain Gantu.  Far more brawn than brains, but that didn't matter when he was waving his blaster around, when he towered so high he could step on you and barely flinch in effort.  

Jumba heard the evidence transit come in behind him, and threw a glance its way.  He allowed his face to drop into concern for a moment.  Maybe he could explain the diagrams, or some of the pods.  Maybe.  It all depended on what they'd found.

"How do you plead?"

He snapped his gaze back to the Councilwoman, folding his arms in indignation.  "Not guilty!  My experiments are only theoretical, and _completely_ within legal boundaries!"

"We believe you actually _created_ something."

Damn.  The evidence transit was unlocking.  Panic crept into his voice, slow but increasing.  "C-created something?  HA!  That would be…irresponsible, and unethical!" And much more fun than his Galaxy Defense work, but that went without saying.  "I would _never_, _EVER_…" The containment pod dropped on a platform beside him, and inwardly he said a prayer.  Please don't let it be…

Of course it was.  6-2-6.

"…Make more than one," Jumba finished, turning what he hoped was an innocent face to his judge.  With her particular brand of severity, every little bit helped.

6-2-6, ever supportive, promptly dropped into a crouch and snarled at its watchful audience.  Collective murmurs and gasps from the peanut gallery.  It made a rush for the glass, and that small tremor caused even the Councilwoman to flinch.  

He could only imagine the thoughts behind such frightened eyes.  The reputation he was gathering.

It was the only good thing to happen to him all day.

Agent Wendy Pleakley leapt back with the rest of them, and then promptly leaned forward and returned his eye to the proceedings.  He watched his view screen with a sense of horrified fascination.    

Finally, something interesting.  Most of these trials lasted hours, over the dullest stuff, and he made it a point to miss the broadcasts and just get on with his research.  Trade regulations this, peace treaty that.  Lots of really _boring_ protocol, and nobody ever needed Earth expertise on the spot.  

The justice system was important, of course, he'd _never_ deny that.  But with such strict regulations, crime was always dealt with at the planetary level.  Something as interesting as this almost never hit intergalactic.  

"What _is_ that monstrosity?"

Captain Gantu could not appreciate a work of such genius, and neither could the rest of them.  Jumba had figured that, had prepared for it, but the disgust in the captain's voice still stirred indignation.

"Monstrosity!  What you see before you is the first of a new species."  His own brilliant, brand new species.  The suppressed delight began to break through in his voice, as he studied his little creation.  "I call it…Experiment 6-2-6."

It snarled again, climbing up and down the 'walls' of its tiny domed prison.  Jumba's pride surged again, and he did little to beat it back down this time.  He'd promised himself he wouldn't do this, but what did it matter now?  One lives and learns, yes?

"He is bulletproof, fireproof, and can think faster than supercomputer."

And hadn't he always dreamed of this?  Displaying his insanely powerful creation, inspiring such powerful feeling among his colleagues?

"He can see in the dark, and move objects three thousand times his size!"

Seeing their fear and their respect, lodging himself in their memories with the life he'd shaped by his own hands?

"His only instinct – to destroy _everything he TOUCHES!_" 

Pleakley's eye narrowed in disgust as he watched the scientist - what had his name been again?  Jumbo? - collapse to the ground in an uncontrollable fit of laughter, limbs flailing.  He clucked his two tongues disapprovingly.  Disgusting.  Not even an attempt at remorse or restraint.  

Well, it only proved there was no hope for these maniacs.  Galactic policy was best: lock them up for life and be done with it.

"So it _is_ a monster."  
"Eh, just a little one."

Although he looked more ridiculous than dangerous, right now.

"It's an affront to nature!  It must be destroyed!"

He quickly scrambled to his feet at this, although he really shouldn't have been surprised at the suggestion.  His beautiful creation…_his_ work, such incredible achievement, and they would take it apart? 

He never thought he would be so happy to hear the Councilwoman's voice.  "Calm yourself, Captain Gantu.  Perhaps it can be reasoned with."

Heh.  Perhaps, but he'd like to see them try.

"Experiment 6-2-6, give us some sign you understand any of this."  It was searching for openings under the glass, failing, but showing all the inventiveness it was programmed for.  Jumba resisted the urge to laugh; he was in enough trouble as it was.  Of course it understood.  It anticipated the verdict, and was trying to find the best way to make a break for it.

A perfect success.  To destroy it-!

"Show us there is something inside you that is _good_."

6-2-6 turned to the most powerful woman in the universe, and cleared its throat with remarkable dignity.  The hearing implements of the entire Federation strained to hear the creature's first words. 

Pleakley's antenna jutted forward in anticipation.

"_Meega nala qweesta!_"__

Horrified gasps and cries from most of the Federation.  A few collapsed in shock, even vomited.  The Councilwoman bristled with righteous anger, as cameras caught it all in full color.

"So…_naughty_!"

"AHAHAHAHA!"

"I didn't teach him that," he heard the scientist protest, as he himself came close to fainting.

"Place that _idiot scientist_ under arrest!"

The same domed walls closed over his form, with just enough space for breathing room and the bare bones of movement.  He barely noticed.  Anger flared inside him like an all-consuming force, as he pressed his hands against his prison.  Blubber-choked, brain-dead son of a trog, how _dare_ he disrespect…?

"I prefer to be called _EVIL GENIUS!!_" Jumba screamed, as the platform-turned-containment pod carried him downward with smooth fluidity.

Ah well.  Better out with a bang than with a whimper. 

_Well_, Agent Pleakley thought, still reeling and lightheaded from the little monster's curses.  _Serves him right, doesn't it?_

He'd never really understood how evil popped out of the woodwork like this.  The Galactic Federation, the Councilwoman especially…well, they set the rules, right?  And they were simple rules, very clearly outlined, not at all hard to follow.  Punishment was strict, unbending.  Who would _want_ to break the law?  Following it made things better for everyone.

Only an insane fool would do such a thing.  But while Dr. Jookiba was insane, his official, Federation-approved work had indeed been brilliant.  Galaxy Defense was _the _leading brand of its business, had partnered with the Council for all standard issue vehicles and equipment.  He could have invented the blasters that soldiers wore, the ship Pleakley drove.  Maybe even the very pod that had imprisoned the experiment.  A shame, really.

"And as for that abomination, it is the pure product of a deranged mind.  It has no place among us.  Captain Gantu, take him away."

"With _pleasure_."

Not that he cared, of course.  As long as little monster and its creator were safely contained, he could switch _off_ the stupid screen and get back to his Viewfinder.

* * * * *  

Twenty intergalactic minutes at the most, maybe, while they processed the correct paperwork.  These things were done with the push of a few buttons, fingerprints taken by infrared scanner.  He would be jailed within an hour, his sentence made official.  The papers would be printing the story by then; the writing was mostly performed by robotics and then jazzed up to make it interesting.  Everything done with a swift and deliberate efficiency the Federation took great pride in.

Jumba chuckled in what he hoped was his most sinister fashion.  Twenty intergalactic minutes.  He imagined it would take 6-2-6 even less time.

Click.

Evolution.

Click.

 Happy family.

Click.

The comet.  

Click.

He'd memorized all of the slide reels by now, had studied them meticulously for details.  The two-eyed people of Earth.  So…fascinating.

Cli-

The red light above the bed began to blink rapidly.  Righting himself, blinking his eye rapidly, he began to count the flashes.

Five.

FIVE?!

That meant it was a big deal.  As in 'report to the Councilwoman at once'.  Earth expertise was urgently needed in the main chamber.  Earth expertise was _urgently_-?!

This must be a beautiful good dream.  He grabbed the Viewfinder and a few charts, and went speeding through the halls as fast as his legs could carry him.  Backwater and non-Federation as it was, Earth hadn't been dealt with since that incident in Roswell.  He'd been a few years old then, maybe, and nothing had surfaced since he'd made the cut as an agent.  It left lots of time for free study, but he'd always dreamed of the day he would finally do his share with such expertise.  And this was it!  

This was IT!  

He sprinted through the chamber doors just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation.  
"…time do we have?"  
"We have projected his landing time…"

He threw his eye to the screen, saw the familiar looking land mass.   It was that chain of islands on the end of the large western continent.  Whatever just landed there had made it to 'Kauai', if he read it correctly.

"…gas the planet."  
Well, that made sense.  After all, if whatever landed there was dangerous, then certainly…oh no.

"_HOLD IT!_"  He made a mad dash for the Councilwoman, research materials clutched tightly in one hand.  "Hoooold everything!"   

Good, he had her attention.  Time to use his expertise to make the best first impression possible.  "Earth is a protected _wildlife reserve_.  Yeah, we've been using it to rebuild the _mosquito _population, which need I remind you is an _ENDANGERED SPECIES_!" He tapped her lightly with the display chart, for added emphasis.

"Am I to assume you are the _expert_?"

Ooh dear.  That didn't sound very friendly.  "Oh, I wouldn't know about expert, heh heh, heh…erhm."  He righted himself.  "Agent Pleakley at your service."

"Can we not simply destroy the island?"

Wait, wait,_ what_?  "NO!  Crazy-head!  The mosquito's food of choice, primitive humanoid life forms, have colonies all _over_ that planet!"  He loaded up the Viewfinder, flipping through a few unnecessary images before settling on the right illustration for display.  She took it from him, studying it with calm dignity.

"Are they intelligent?"

"No.  But they're _very_ delicate.  In fact, every time an asteroid strikes their planet they have to begin life all over."  She handed it back to him with an exasperated sigh, but it barely registered.  "_Fascinating_, isn't it?  With this I've been able to study-"

"What if our military forces just landed there?"  
"Well, that would be a _bad idea_!  These are _extremely simple_ creatures, Miss!  Landing there would create mass mayhem and planet-wide panic!"

She was still bristling with indignation, and it was starting to irritate him.  _I mean, really.  As if this were my fault._

"A quiet capture would require an understand of 6-2-6 that we do not possess!  _Who_, then, Mr. Pleakley, would _you_ send for his extraction?" 

Oh.  6-2-6.  Well, that was certainly…dangerous and terrifying.  For whoever was involved, that is.

"Does he have a brother?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Close grandmother, perhaps?"

A long, uncomfortable pause.  "He has a _creator_."  For once he caught the full implications of her tone, which seemed to suggest the words 'you idiot.'

"Well, yeah, if we're desperate enough to deal with _that_ lunatic, right?  Hahahahaha…heh."  A pause.  "We're that desperate, aren't we?"

******

A nervous voice and footsteps were beginning to echo down through the prison hallway.  But Jumba had his mind on other things.

He'd sat in the cell with calm expectation, awaiting the arrival of the papers.  This was how he'd know it would all be worth it.  His achievements imprinted forever through ink and paper, kept on computerized record, crystallized in the minds of millions.  One simple, infamous headline.

Which was, apparently, "Idiot Scientist Jailed."

Evil genius.  _Evil genius.  EVIL GENIUS!!_

He clenched the paper in hands that trembled with rage, before screaming in frustration and ripping it apart.  And devouring it for good measure.  He'd destroy all evidence of this travesty, so help him-!

The cell opened to reveal the Councilwoman, and a nervous-looking misfit beside her.  The presence of the other male barely registered.  He had full knowledge of what this little visit meant.

And he laughed.  

The delighted, sinister sound made Pleakley recoil in panic.    
"He got away?"

"I imagine this comes as no surprise to you."

Jookiba leered, a saucy grin spreading across his features.  He reclined back on one hand leisurely.  "I design this creature for to be unstoppable."

Inwardly, Pleakley quivered with anger.  _Show some respect, you monster!_  A phrase he was completely prepared to say, had the creature not been about three times his size and full of raw violence.  

The Councilwoman had it handled, of course.  "Which is precisely why _you_ must now bring him back."

Now _this_ was interesting, and Jumba's eyes widened in faint astonishment.  "What, me?"    
"And to reward you, we are willing to trade your freedom for his capture."

He had no military training, of course, could probably do little more than charge through with a blaster.  But he _was _physically powerful.  And he certainly knew his quarry.  6-2-6 hadn't come back for him.  He had expected that - no creature of _his_ was chained by sentimentality – but the thought of its freedom had still stung.  Perhaps its liberty _would_ be of some use to him, after all.

"Ehhh, 6-2-6 will not come easily.  Maybe direct hit from plasma cannon might stun him long enough to-"  
"Plasma cannon granted."

He tried to conceal his surprise at that; so did the little one-eyed creature, he noted.  She was being very accommodating.  Perhaps he should have asked for more… 

"Do we have a bargain, Dr. Jumba?"

But a plasma cannon was a blessing in itself, of course, and he nodded the affirmative.  

The little one in the uniform – Plorginarian, he faintly realized – turned to the Councilwoman in nervous fear.  "B-but it's a delicate planet!  Who's gonna control him?"

He stifled a laugh as he heard the smugness in her voice.  "You will."

Oh, that Councilwoman.  Who'd have guessed she had a sense of humor beneath that stony exterior?  Well, people surprised you, he supposed.  

"Very good, Your Highness.  I…"  Wait, where was she going?  "Eheh…that's quite…" The door closed behind him, just as the madman began to take slow and deliberate steps forward.  "You're…not…joking!"

Pleakley froze in fear, barely managing to turn and look at the scientist.    His hands flew up to shield his face, almost instantly, as the hulking form drew closer and spoke with deliberate, almost mocking calm.

"So…tell me, my little one-eyed one.  On what poor, pitiful, _defenseless_ planet has my monstrosity been…_unleashed_?"  

He drew back further in fear and revulsion.  "…Earth.  It's called Earth.  And I've been studying it all my life, a-and if you lay a _finger_ on it-!"

"But that is your job, isn't it, my little friend?"  Another almost mocking laugh, as Jookiba caught one of his arms, lowered it from his face with a surprising gentleness.  It was nonetheless intimidating.  "You are to keep me…stable, and under control?"

The male jerked himself away with surprising force, for someone so clearly terrified.

"I'm not your friend and I-I'm _not _your 'little one,' thank you very much!   I…I am the_ renowned_ Earth expert Agent Pleakley, a-and if we're going to…" Jumba grinned in amusement, as the Plorginarian began to tremble.  "If we're…working together…" He inched slowly closer to the shaking form, enjoying himself tremendously.  "Then w-we…should…"

Three…two…one.

"OhBluzarkpleasedon'thurtmeI'lldoanythingIpromisejustdon't-!"      

Jumba roared with laughter, keeping himself from collapsing this time but still clutching his stomach in hysterics.  He watched his unwilling partner look shocked, embarrassed, and angry, all while blushing a pretty shade of gold.  

"Oh," he giggled, wiping a stray tear from his right eyes.  "Little one-eyed one is making this _far_ too easy for me.  Is Councilwoman that desperate for your knowledge, or does she underestimate me so much?"

Pleakley was silent, straightening up in an attempt to recover his dignity.  Or perhaps he didn't know, either.

"I would gain nothing by harming you…right _now_," Jumba continued, making sure to stress his words in the proper places.  "It would get me what?  Locked up for life again, or perhaps sent on same mission with a more competent guard."

"Now wait just a minute, I-"  
"On this planet of yours, however, is best you keep _out of my way _if you know what's good for you."

He was about to protest; really he was, when the door to the cell slid open.  He resisted the very powerful urge to run from there screaming.  

"One of the fastest ships in the fleet has been prepared for you," announced his liberator, a pleasant-looking bear-like creature.  "It's waiting in Bay Five."

Pleakley stiffened, giving what he hoped was his most dignified nod before stepping from the cell.  He heard Jumba follow behind him, still chuckling.

He was loyal to the Federation, incredibly loyal.  And he trusted the judgment of Her Highness, once she was sufficiently informed.  There must be some logical reason for this, some greater purpose.  

He just hoped it involved preserving the planet, not getting killed, and making his way home in a few days time.  And two out of three wasn't half bad, either.

In fact, _anything_ involving "not getting killed" might suit him just fine.


End file.
